With Good Cheer
by vanceypants
Summary: As time slips further and further from summer cheer camp, Christy decides to use Vance's help to prove that she's totally not jealous over Angie's relationship with Ricky. Christy/Vance, Christy/Angie, Angie/Ricky.


_AN: it's been awhile since I've posted anything on FFN. I may have done the formatting a little wonky as a result (not even sure if author's notes are a thing anymore, but whoopsy, here I am anyway). This is a silly little idea I've had knocking around my headspace for awhile. It's Christy/Angie primarily, with some Christy/Vance and Angie/Ricky thrown in. I really enjoy the idea that the girl who 'broke Ricky's heart' wasn't Mandy, but was Angie instead (the precious angel being a heartbreaker is just kind of perfect to me). Anyway, temporary basketball star Ricky in here, too. And general fuckgirl Christy Martin (bless her soul). I'll shut up now. Here's my little fic thing. Hope you enjoy. There is a little sexuality in this, but not enough to warrant an M rating, I don't think._

It had been seven months since cheer camp.

February clung to Christy's shoulders like a cheap shawl. She scowled at the mist of white that floated past her face with every breath. The snow crunched under her shoes. Not for the first time, she cursed Coach Burton for insisting they wear cheer uniforms for the basketball games. Who even watched men play basketball?

Angie, probably. Her fingers twitched in annoyance, with the urge to smoke despite never lighting a cigarette in her life. Her psychiatrist insisted anything with flames should be avoided. Pity.

The gym felt inappropriately hot after the cool of the outdoors. She shrugged off her jacket, sliding up next to her fellow cheerleaders. Mandy offered her a half smile, Pinky remaining locked in concentration on practicing her form.

"It's cold as balls," Christy said blandly. Mandy's smile grew fuller, her lips nearly splitting into a laugh that refused to escape. "Impotent, tiny balls," she added, shaking the laugh from Mandy's mouth.

"You mean Burton's?"

"I wouldn't know. Maybe you'd like to enlighten me, girl."

Mandy shoved her shoulder, rolling her falsely lashed eyes. "I'm not Zoe Taylor."

Christy waited for a clever retort to form at the back of her throat. But her eyes drifted to the sidelines. Angie dangled on the tips of her toes. Her shoulders rested half on Ricky's jersey and half on his bare skin. Christy's nose creased even more than it already had as Angie pressed closer to the greaser-turned-basketball star (not that starring in the Bullworth team meant much, given its lack of wins). Her lips pressed to his cheek.

Christy's spine tingled as she remembered how her mouth had felt against her own, wet and slippery and tangy with cherry lipgloss. She gripped her pom poms until her knuckles turned white.

Angie nearly skipped to them, her boyfriend's eyes never leaving her as she bounced into position next to her friends. "Hey, guys."

"Hey," Christy managed dully.

"Maybe we should try extra hard today?" Angie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Christy's fingers twitched again, this time not for cigarettes, but to replace Angie's. She should have been the one to muss her hair, and the fix it after. It wasn't right. Ricky had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea who he was messing with. He–

"Anyone disagree?"

Christy blinked, staring at Mandy for a moment, as though she could rewind her lips and figure out what cheer routine she'd said they ought to start with. It would have required more effort than she cared to expend to ask for clarification, though. Instead, she nodded. She'd just follow Angie's lead. And maybe after, she could figure out a way to get Angie to follow her's.

* * *

It had been nine months since cheer camp.

Christy wore the months like a bad pregnancy, felt it buckle her back and leave her feet swollen. She wanted to cut open her guts and spill her frustrations on the concrete, to kick the fetus of her dejection into a gutter and light it on fire.

The greasers leaned against the wall of the auto shop. And Ricky leaned against Angie, pushing her against the bricks. He had her hands pinned above her head, his knee between her legs, and she could almost feel her exhales against her own skin. Christy resisted the urge to pick up a crowbar and bash it into the back of his skull.

Johnny Vincent folded his arms against his chest, glancing at her oddly. "You lose a pom pom or something?"

And then she could take the crowbar and take the greaser king out too.

"Don't be a prick, Johnny." Vance bounded out of the autoshop, finishing a final comb to his hair before smiling at Christy.

Her heart didn't flutter. But she could easily see how a girl's could. He had a very easy smile, and the sort of heterochromia to his eyes that made him a kaleidoscope.

"Obviously she lost her heart. Cuz I took it." He winked, and she could easily pretend she felt more over it than she actually did, pretend the warmth was from affection rather than the way spring rolled through the New England campus.

"Actually," She started, then trailed off. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and wished again it was Angie's hair, that her hands were playing at someone else's scalp. She bit the corner of her lip, looking up after staring at the scuffs on her white sneakers. "Well, I was looking for you." She kicked at the ground casually, squirming until she hoped she seemed nervous. Anxiety didn't fit her well, and she wondered if Vance's facade of stupidity was too thin for him not to see the lack of sincerity to her acts.

She shouldn't have worried. She wasn't even sure what she was getting at. It was an opportunity opened before her, but she wasn't sure how. She could see Ricky peel himself off Angie, see her hands against his chest as she blinked behind fogged up glasses. And Christy fell in closer to Vance.

"Oh? What's cookin', good lookin'?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

Vance regarded her for a moment. "Tell ya what. I'll pick you up at 8 and I can show you–"

"No one wants to see your fuckin genital warts, Medici." Johnny nearly snarled the sentence. His features were set more angry than Christy thought the situation warranted. His features softened after a moment, though it seemed more forced than it should have.

Vance scowled. "Oh, I'm sorry, Johnny. You pissed cuz a cute cheerleader is hittin' on me and you've been stuck sleepin on the couch?"

"I ain't sleepin on no couch."

"But you ain't sleepin' with Lola neither, are you?"

For a moment, Christy wondered if Johnny was thinking of crow bars and their respective hardness in terms of skulls too.

And then she realized she'd just scheduled a date with her own greaser boy. One she really had no romantic inklings for.

At least he was cute. She smiled, bouncing on her heels. "Can't wait to see you." She leaned in, a dramatic sort of stooping, ponytail swishing as she planted her lips against Vance's cheek. She made sure to smear her lipstick into a perfect print on his skin. His body glowed against her lips. And his skin was almost as soft as Angie's had been 9 months ago.

* * *

"Why are you dating Vance?"

Word had gotten around faster than Vance had been able to score a decent makeout with her. Christy shuffled her hair out of its rubber band, red strands spilling down her shoulders as she regarded her roommate. It felt odd, being the topic of gossip rather than the deliverer.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Chris. You know what I'm talking about. You. Greaser prince. At that seafood cafe on the pier."

"It's not a seafood cafe. Gross."

"Whatever!" Mandy snapped. "Vance was in there, so there were crabs."

"Oh my god, why are you all so obsessed with my boyfriend's genitals?"

"Jesus, Christina! Then it IS true!"

"Don't call me Christina." The words tumbled from her mouth with the casualness of their frequency. "Yes. I'm dating Vance. So what? You all are always going on about how cute he is in the locker room."

"There's nothing cute about syphilis."

"Like, how many STDs do you think the dude has?"

"All. All of them. He's a petri dish. You're going to be the fucking cotton swab! Oh god, Chris. You can't date him! He's a total…total…ugh. Totally grody."

"Jealous much?"

"Please." She paused. "Maybe Angie, though. She keeps talking about…oh my god, Chris. You aren't."

"What?"

"You aren't! Oh god, you wouldn't, right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Christy started to shuffle her shoes back onto her feet. This wasn't a topic she cared to continue.

"Christy! Like, it's okay to date guys to make other guys jealous, but if you're doing that to Angie, that's just wrong."

"I don't know what you're talking about! I'm going to a car show now."

"Chris! You don't even like cars!"

"Not true."

"You were just talking about moving to the west coast and relying on public transportation and electro-powered vehicles. You said the fossil fuel costs are outrageous!"

"So, like, you do listen to someone besides yourself." Christy grabbed her jacket off the back of her desk chair. "It's called compromise. Maybe you can't do it with Ted, but I'm all about doing what makes my boyfriend happy. It's called respect."

"Which is why you're using him to try to make lesbionics with Angie Ng."

"Lesbionics sounds like some sort of robo dyke army or something. If that's the case, maybe. But if you're, like, saying I'm trying to make Angie jealous, I'm not. It's not my fault she's obsessed with my relationship."

The doorknob clung to her fingertips as she left her dorm room. She leaned back against the door, closing her eyes for a moment. She almost hated herself for savoring the visual of Angie tossing and turning over it, of her fidgeting around Ricky and thinking about how Christy should have been there instead.

Christy tangled her fingers into Vance's hair. He stiffened and she half expected him to pull up, to tell her not to muss it.

Instead, he nuzzled up closer. His breath was almost sticky between her legs. It left webs of himself on her. She let her thighs fall further open. His thumbs coaxed circles against her skin as she gasped towards the ceiling.

His bed creaked cheaply beneath them. The posters of vintage movie stars stared back at her, and she glowed with pride as Marilyn Monroe watched over her as her boyfriend worked his tongue into her.

One of Vance's hands crawled up her stomach. She swallowed another gasp as it moved further still, cupping her breast. She arched into his touch, legs shaking and clamping down on either side of Vance's head. She could feel him exhale sharply, most likely in some sort of giggle at her reactions. She should have been upset at being laughed at, but he touched her so well. She could see why he was so popular around town, herpes be damned.

Oh god, she hadn't seen him naked yet, she hoped he didn't have herpes.

"Wait," She tugged at Vance's hair. He lifted his head, lazily wiping his mouth off on the back of his other arm. "You, like, have a condom, right?"

"Uh huh," He said, gaze dreamy and dazed. He crawled up her, mostly undressed besides his boxers. She reached down, looping her fingers into his waistband. She tugged down, until they slipped free of his ass. She groped him, digging her nails into the skin of his ass for a moment, leaving crescent moon indents. He whimpered, reaching down and sliding his underwear off completely.

Christy glanced down, staring at the contrast between their skin, between Vance's body and her own. It didn't meld against her the same as Angie's had. He wasn't as pale as she'd been. He didn't moan her name as sweetly as Angie had.

* * *

It had been 11 months since cheer camp. And next month, she knew Angie would go again, but Christy…Christy would stay right here. Let Angie think about who she was missing out on.

Vance was almost good enough at kissing that she could forget. Christy raked her fingers through his hair just to feel his tongue hiccup nervously within her mouth. She could taste herself on his lips, and she gave a brief swat to his ass.

"Condom, babe."

"Huh? Oh. Right."

He was almost adorable when he acted so dumb, but Angie had played naivety sweeter. Still, Christy let him into her, let him claim a piece of herself that Christy so wished Angie could have taken instead.

* * *

It had been 11 months since cheer camp.

Vance dangled his feet into the water. They sat on the edge of the abandoned ship, and she wore his pirate hat. She tipped it back, watched the way the sun had begun to sink its way out of their view.

His hand squeezed hers. "This is my favorite place," He said, and it was blunt, and honest, and something about how he gave her his words and his place and his open face without a wide set grin made something crack in her tightly wound chest.

"You still play pirate here?" She teased him, trying to coax him out of any sort of attempts to give himself to her. Maybe she could give and take the physical, but she didn't want his hopes and dreams, didn't want his heartaches, didn't want anything that could make her feel like she'd turned his collections into cheap trinkets.

"Sometimes," He laughed, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes turned towards the sunset. "I think I'm in love with you." he said. It was matter of fact, not spoken in the way she'd ever expected such a confession to be gifted.

Her tongue shriveled in her mouth.

He laughed a little again. "I don't want you to have to say it back or nothin'. Don't wanna be one a those guys who pressures their dame into sayin' it back." He glanced at her, and the blues in his eyes contrasted so sharp with the green this time that she felt dizzy and sick instead of thrilled. "I just can't believe you're still here."

"Please. Everyone likes you, Vance."

"No, I know. I know. I'm real likable." He kicked one foot in the water, leaving ripples. "Just until people start to get to know me, you know?"

Christy wanted to scream 'no' into his face. To shove him into the water. To break his heart in an act of melodrama before he could say anything else.

"I ain't used to someone wantin to be with me like this. Just spendin' time. It's nice. How quiet it is."

"Yeah…" Christy thought of all the quiet spaces Angie had left for her, that she'd filled with anxious chatter. She thought of how earnestly Vance was speaking now, and how even if she got what she wanted, she'd still taste his words like ash, sticking to the roof of her mouth, where it had burrowed through her every pore.

"Thank you. For just wantin' me. Thanks for stayin' even when I ain't as entertainin'."

"Yeah," She repeated. And she decided to go to cheer camp anyway. Because the torture of sharing a bunk with Angie beat spending a month rolling the weight of unwanted love around from body part to body part, trying to fit it somewhere where it might not crush her too terribly.

* * *

It had been one year since cheer camp.

Angie sat on the edge of her bed, almost the same as she had last year.

"I think I'm going to break up with Ricky," She said.

Christy remembered wanting this moment.

"Was he a dick?"

"No, it's just…it doesn't feel right." Angie giggled, shrugging. One of her sleeves fell off the curve of her shoulder. Christy reached over, adjusting it into place. Angie reached up, placing one hand over Christy's. The contact was brief, quickly torn apart, but it left Angie blushing and Christy shaking.

"Yeah, I didn't think it'd last," She said. "But we should get some rest before the…we have a big day tomorrow. Dibs on top!"

She could feel Angie staring up at her mattress. Christy squeezed her eyes shut and wondered what date she'd have to count to now before everything fit comfortably again.


End file.
